


Stood Up

by Sargentpepper23



Series: Trapped, but along for the ride [13]
Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Lingerie, Mild Sexual Content, Stood up on a date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sargentpepper23/pseuds/Sargentpepper23
Summary: “Do not finish that sentence.  You are not fine, and there is no way in hell we’re giving these gossiping assholes the satisfaction of watching you fall apart.”Or, in other news,Tom lands an unexpected date, Ever buys lingerie, and Killer's pants will surely fall off or be impossible to take off, when he eventually spies her in it.
Relationships: Killer (One Piece)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Trapped, but along for the ride [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1443649
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	Stood Up

**Author's Note:**

> How is it that I can have an in-progress chapter I've been struggling with for months, and whip out this bad boy in one afternoon? Must be a sign... Oh well, that's a problem for another time. I hope you guys enjoy this!

Tom couldn't stop bouncing his foot or resist the urge to straighten the already wrinkle-free napkin in his lap. Refusing to recheck the time, he settled for watching the condensation drip off the untouched glass of white wine across from him.

His date was over half an hour late, and people other than him were starting to notice.

The waiter at least was kind, and silently filled his third glass of water, not pressing him to order even during the busy lunch hour. The couple sitting by the window, well, they weren’t as subtle as they thought they were. The wife kept cupping her hand across her mouth, somehow thinking that would smother her hushed whispers of “Poor guy,” and “I don’t think she’s coming,” to her husband.

Staring intently at the wet spot on the white tablecloth, Tom pushed his glasses back up his nose and tried not to be swallowed by the embarrassment burning in his chest and tips of his ears. _I should have known better. She would never go out with someone like me._

He straightened his napkin again, and flagged the waiter down, ignoring the warmth in his cheeks when the wife whispered to her husband. He wouldn’t waste any more time sitting here when Cassidy obviously wasn’t coming, and he definitely didn’t want to hear anything else from the peanut gallery.

Plastering what he hoped wasn't a grimace on his face, he asked for the check and waited eagerly for the total. This was shitty. _Today_ had been shitty, and he couldn’t wait to go home and drown himself in the ninety essays that needed to be graded by Monday. At least those would be interesting, and take his mind off—

“Oh my god, Hun, I’m _so_ sorry,” a woman’s voice called.

Whipping his head up, a cute brunette tossed her stuff down next to the empty chair and leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. Not sure who this woman was, or what to do, he flinched when she whispered, "Just go along with it," in his ear, and sat down, before saying loudly, "You would not _believe_ the craziness I’ve experienced today.”

She launched into specifics, but he wasn’t paying attention, too taken off guard to comprehend her rambling, even when she mentioned something about busybody pirates.

The waiter returned, and she smiled up at him kindly, “Hi,” she looked at his badge, “Jeremy. I’m so sorry I’m late. Do you mind grabbing me a glass of water”?

Jeremy nodded and returned with a glass. The woman politely thanked him and asked for a few minutes to look over the menu, which he gladly gave them. Now alone, the brunette flipped open the menu and startled him when she gently grabbed his hand, whispering, "How long have you been sitting here"?

Tom checked his watch and answered without thinking, “Forty minutes,” he mumbled back. _I really am pathetic for waiting this long._

The woman hummed in acknowledgment, but the tightening of her mouth gave away her feelings. She was pissed.

Rubbing her thumb soothingly across the back of his hand, she continued reading over the menu as she asked his name. He gave it to her, and she nodded, before flagging down Jeremy, and kindly gave him her order, Tom stammering his after her.

The whispering had started again, except this time, it was aimed at the woman. She either didn't notice, which he sincerely doubted judging by her tightening grip, or she didn’t care. Either way, she continued holding his hand, and read quickly through the dessert menu, “I can stay for an hour, but after that, I'll need to make a call,” she murmured, “I don’t want my friends to show up.”

He gripped her hand back, conveying his gratitude, “You don’t have to do this, I’m—“

“Do _not_ finish that sentence,” she finally looked at him, her startling green eyes narrowed and blazing. “You are not fine, and there is no way in hell we’re giving these gossiping assholes the satisfaction of watching you fall apart.” She shot a fierce glare at the wife, who flushed and immediately turned away. Satisfied she got her point across, she peered back down at the menu, and growled, “You deserve better than this.”

Stunned, Tom really took in the woman, who, while not quite his savior, was something close to it. Her flattering blush colored top and dark jeans hugged in all the right places, her caramel sandals were stylish but screamed comfort, and the jaw-dropping ruby ring on her right hand probably belonged in a museum, or better yet a vault.

He flicked his eyes up from the sparkling jewel towards her face, at the freckles smattered lightly across her cheekbones, a fading slice across the left one, the slightest hint of laugh lines around her mouth, and the way she pursed her lips, mumbling under her breath that there _is_ such a thing as too much chocolate.

She looked kind, _was_ kind to help him, and before he could stop himself, he asked her, “What’s your name”?

The woman tucked a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear and laid the menu flat on the table, “You can call me Ever,” she said with a grin.

~~

Today had been great. The sun had shined warm on her back as she perused through the bustling town, her heavy sack of new books beckoned her to find a quiet café until her later lunch date, and the outrageously priced scraps of lace she had just purchased would surely have Killer dropping his pants in no time.

Accepting the sleek black bag from the shop assistant, Ever smiled at the mischievous woman, who winked back in return. Stacy had gleefully spent the past hour helping her find the _perfect_ pants-dropping lingerie, ones the woman insisted were “classy, not trashy.”

Making her way out of the store, her confidence skyrocketed to that of a queen when Stacy called, "Go get him, girl," as the bells above the door chimed behind her. Ever grinned and gave her a thumbs-up through the window before turning towards the street, inhaling the sweet scent of the emerald trees blanketing the mountain above the town.

It really was beautiful here. The summer island is the perfect environment for tropical plants and brightly colored creatures to flourish, her favorite being the teal iguanas blending in perfectly with the crystal blue waves crashing against the rocky shore. Watching a proud bird of paradise snap his wings on a power line above her, Ever almost missed the conversation the two women crossing the street were having. Something about a guy being stood up at the restaurant they had just walked out of.

Her mouth twitched down of its own free will, and she found herself marching towards the red symbol that had been on the outside of both women’s takeout bags, the storefront three doors down. Peering through the window, she hoped what she had just heard wasn’t true.

Unfortunately, it was.

In the center of the crowded restaurant sat a pale, young man fidgeting in his chair, doing his best not to stare too hard at the unoccupied seat across from him. He was obviously here for a date. His checkered yellow, white, and purple button-down shirt was wrinkle-free, his khaki pants equally pressed, and his dark purple hair was parted and slicked down. Pushing his square rimmed glasses up his nose, he raised his hand towards a watchful server and began mindlessly playing with the end of a spoon, pushing and pulling it back and forth across the covered table.

Beside her, the restaurant’s door opened, and the couple now out of earshot of those inside immediately started gossiping about the man as they walked past her.

Ever’s hand curled into a fist under her heavy bag, and she bit the inside of her cheek, stopping the nasty comment threatening to roll off her tongue. _Assholes, all of them._

Still watching the young man, her heart cracked the tiniest bit when his pathetic smile dropped into something beyond sad, and his face flushed as he stared into his lap, defeated and embarrassed.

_That’s it._

She didn’t remember throwing open the door, hard enough for the handle to slam into the stone wall behind it, or breezing past the hostess, claiming her date was already here. What she did remember was the startled and grateful look in the man's brown eyes when she threw her stuff down, kissed him on the cheek, and whispered for him to go along with it.

And that is how she met Tom, the sweet mechanical engineer who had been stood up by the prettiest and bitchiest girl in town.

~~

Running a finger through the condensation on the outside of the wine glass, Ever picked it up and sniffed it before whispering to Tom, “Do you mind if I try this”?

He shrugged, “Go for it. It’s not like Cassidy will drink it,” he mumbled dejectedly.

She didn’t say a word and took a sip of the expensive wine, surprised to find she enjoyed it, the sweet flavor lingering on her tongue. Setting it down, she folded her hands on the table and leaned forward in interest, “So, tell me about yourself.”

Tom shrugged again but at least looked her in the eyes this time, “What’s there to tell? I’m a mechanical engineer, I teach courses for fun up at the university, and I’m a loser for thinking Cassidy wanted me for anything other than my willingness to help her pass her math class.”

He was understandably throwing himself a pity party, but it was time to shut that down.

She prodded him with her sandal, “That’s cool and also partially false, but that wasn’t what I was looking for.” Rubbing at an imaginary stain on the table, she looked back at him, “Why mechanical engineering, and why do you teach? Do you prefer dogs or cats? What makes you laugh? Do you have a favorite book? I mean,” she actually chuckled, “What’s your favorite color? I want to get to know _you_ , not the man you think you are from one crappy day.”

He huffed but seemed to consider it. Eventually, he spoke.

He became a mechanical engineer because he likes to tinker with things, to take them apart and put them back together. To draw, and sketch, and design “contraptions” that benefit others.

He enjoys teaching simply because he wants others to learn. He wants to push his students to search for new ideas and feels he can learn something from them as well. As he said, 320 minds are better than one. On a funny note, he made it clear he only teaches college students because they can better grasp the material, and he can laugh with them when they inevitably crack inappropriate jokes or drunk call him at four in the morning.

He prefers dogs over cats and has a one-eared mutt named Chuck. Apparently, it is Chuck's goal in life to find, steal, and eat toothbrushes, much to his owner's feigned annoyance.

He always laughs and proceeds to help calm down his elderly and batty neighbor, Mrs. Wernike, when she calls him, screaming that there’s a slobby, old-man ghost in her home. Turns out, it's her husband she occasionally forgets about but not to worry, he mercifully went deaf years ago, so he never has to listen to his wife raise hell again.

He doesn’t have a favorite book, but he prefers murder mysteries and science fiction novels, especially those with aliens. He made sure to add in a smidge too quickly that he did _not_ read alien sex books.

Finally, his favorite color is yellow, like the sun on a hot day or the wild canaries that sing in the trees further up the mountain.

By the time he finished, Jeremy had returned with their food, and there was a small but genuine smile on Tom’s face. Spearing her chicken Caesar salad, Ever nodded along to her date’s crazed explanation of the murder mystery series he had just started and his opinion that serial killers are way more interesting than vampires.

Of course, she had to stir the pot and ask the question, “Aren’t vampires _technically_ serial killers,” which left the poor man momentarily sputtering for an answer, until he caught her sly smirk. Encouraged, he grinned back and launched into his rebuttal theory.

About half-way through his explanation, he stopped, “Oh crap, I’ve been talking this entire time. Sorry, I just get excited, um, shit,” he played with a piece of asparagus on his plate before sheepishly asking, “What do you like”?

She waved off his apology because she tended to do the exact same thing, “Don’t worry about it. I prefer to listen anyway, and you’re fun to talk with.”

And so, she rattled off her own answers, that her favorite color is turquoise, and she also prefers dogs, but likes the independence of cats.

She told him about the time she was almost arrested by a stripper, which had Tom squirming in his chair. She may or may not have gone into explicit detail of how the man’s tight ass had perfectly filled out his sinful black speedo, and how fucking hot he had been the following night sporting a badge and gun.

She told him about her bookshop and how she could spend days combing through the books, learning as much as she could about anything and everything. How researching info for those in town who did not have the time or patience to do it themself was practically a hobby. Hell, the pair giggled like the adorable nerds they are and compared their styles of note-taking, both respecting, but silently vowing to never take notes like _that_.

She finished by telling him about her love for historical fiction and fantasy novels, and how amazing the world-building in some of them were. Shooting him a wink and a cheeky grin, she made sure she was perfectly articulate when she said she _definitely_ read books for the sex scenes.

Overall, lunch wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was nice, and damn, this Cassidy bitch was missing out on a smart and funny guy. 

Having finished their meals, Jeremy cleared their dishes and set the check down on the table. Subtly shaking his head at Ever as she eyed her purse, Tom grabbed the bill, smoothly slid some beli into the folder, and handed it back, telling Jeremy to keep the change.

Sipping the last of her wine, Ever thanked Tom for the meal, and continued their earlier conversation about stupid things they had done as kids, still having a couple of minutes left before she had to go. 

My god, Tom may be brilliant, but like all men, he's as dumb as a fucking rock sometimes. This most certainly included the time he and his best friend thought it would be a great idea to ride their bikes down two hills as fast as they could towards each other and high five when they met in the middle. Long story short, they both ended up in the emergency room with broken arms and shit-eating grins, only to leave several hours later with matching blue casts.

Gesturing how he tumbled off the bike, he kicked a leg out for emphasis and accidentally knocked over her bags. “Oh crap, sorry,” he leaned over and scrambled to upright them, only for his hand to twitch, and his ears burned when he recognized the brand name on the outside of the classy black bag.

Flushed, and knowing he was never going to meet this woman again, he dared to ask, "Is that…"

Fixing the tissue falling out of the bag, she replied, “Yes, but it’s not for you.”

“I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend,” he mumbled down into his water, feeling guilty. Was this considered cheating? He didn’t want to meet the boyfriend and find out.

“We haven’t put a label on it yet,” she reassured him.

He readjusted his glasses and nodded at the bag, shutting down any and all thoughts of what might possibly be in there. "And that is…”?

She smiled with just a hint of teeth, “Me putting a label on it.”

He was grateful when she dropped her gaze and flipped her wrist to check the time. That feral smile was just a tad too scary and promised more than he cared to know.

She clicked her tongue and shot him an apologetic look, wrist still turned, so the watch was on full display. He knew what that meant, "Time for you to go," he asked.

“Yeah,” she said as she gathered her stuff, “If I don’t leave now, all hell will probably break loose.”

He knocked his knees on the table as he stood and moved to pull her chair out, "Well, thank you for um, everything, I guess."

She stood, and looped an arm through his as he lead her out of the restaurant, “No thanks needed. I had a wonderful time with you,” she said truthfully.

Walking outside, Ever turned towards the end of the block, and smiled at whatever she saw. Turning back towards him one last time, she grinned, "It was nice to meet you, Tom, but I hope I never see you under these circumstances again."

He 100% agreed with that. “It was nice meeting you too, Ever. Good luck with your not-boyfriend, or whatever you call him.”

She spun the black bag playfully, thinking about what was sure to happen because of it, "I call him Babe," her voice dropped into a purr, "and he's not going to know what hit him."

Waving his goodbye, he watched her saunter down the busy sidewalk, and nearly shit his pants when a member of the Worst Generation, the _Massacre Soldier_ of all people, walked up and grabbed her heavy bag of books. Shifting the full takeout bag in his hand, the assassin slung his free arm around her waist and lead her around the corner.

Tom, the poor soul, panicked and pressed himself back against something solid, not caring what it was, just as long as it supported him when his knees inevitably buckled. _HOLY SHIT!_

~~

BONUS

Sitting in the mess hall, Ever was hanging with her favorite group of dumbasses, the dumbasses being the six men who had survived “Judgement Day” with her. The current topic of conversation was the women they had hooked up with earlier this morning, and the inevitable bragging that went along with it.

“I’m telling you,” Fox exclaimed, “this chick was lapping at me so long, I had to drag her off, she was insatiable.”

“Great for fucking you,” sneered Luther, “the blonde I fucked couldn’t give a blowjob to save her life, but she liked me choking her. Oh, and get this,” he took a swig of his beer, “she was going on and on about how she’s the hottest thing around, and that I should be _honored_ she was skipping her lunch date to be with me.” He took another swig, and raised it in the air, “A toast, to the poor bastard I saved today. May you never fuck that idiot.”

They all cheered and clinked their mugs, Ever included, but something sounded familiar about his story. “Hey, did you happen to catch her name”?

Luther predictably stared at her like was a moron, “Uhhh, I don’t bother to get their names, but I think it started with a C? Caitlyn, Cathleen, Cameron—“

“Cassidy,” Ever supplied.

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her, “Yeah! That’s the bitch. How’d you know”?

Ever shrugged and poured him another drink, “Just a hunch.” This time, she raised her mug in toast, “To Luther’s shitty blowjob”! 

The men echoed her and drank, only to roar in laughter when Luther decreed, “A blowjob’s a blowjob, no matter how shitty it may be.”

**Author's Note:**

> Stay safe, everyone!
> 
> P.S. The time is approaching *maniacal laughter cuts through the air*


End file.
